


Bullet Points

by BloodOnUrsuline



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Devious Romance, F/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Unusual relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodOnUrsuline/pseuds/BloodOnUrsuline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Green and orange are complimentary characters despite their screamingly obvious differences. Interestingly enough, so are Locus and Felix themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terraphim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terraphim/gifts), [Darkfrog24 (Ithil)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithil/gifts).



It’s a subtle thing.

Not that Locus found himself describing anything about Felix as subtle. Showboating appeared to be encoded deep in his DNA and provided a chronic source of annoyance and problems in their lives. That and the additional prideful monologues, extended taunting, and generally grating behaviors the man took joy in on a daily basis. 

Not that Locus kept tabs on those things anyway.

So it is the fact that it is so subtle that catches Locus’ attention. 

Though not at first. He notices it several times without connection before the prison ship heist. As they moved towards the bridge, watchful eyes on all of their men going cell to cell and assessing their new lot of cannon fodder, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it and sudden makes his first odd connection.

Felix walks like he owns the fucking universe. An easy stride that borders on a saunter, footfalls confident, firm but light enough that his reaction time remains excellent. His hips sway almost as if to broadcast a level of swagger beyond what seems tolerable or acceptable for even the best soldiers. People step aside at a distance and not for his good looks hidden behind the visor. Locus recalled one of their female soldiers remarking, “People have to move when he walks near. His ego is the size of a fucking Covenant cruiser!”. 

He’s walked beside, behind, around, and before Felix for going on 2 decades, both in and out of combat. They know each others motions, reactions, moves, can predict the next step with incredible accuracy in makes them unstoppable in most combat scenarios. 

So the fact that Felix actually turns ever so slightly towards Locus as they walk side by side may just be coincidence. But as they got up to the main deck, Felix already jumping ahead to remind him the alarm situation came at his desire instead of by accident, Locus found himself watching him much closer. The angle of his body as he leans on the console, a slight lean to the left as Locus walks to that side. When he threatens Price, an empty threat so noticeable after so much time together, he faces his partner. One arm extended with the gun to the once Counselor’s head but standing like some ridiculous armored peacock on display. 

He flips through the many memories of their interactions, noting the slight changes from distrustful and aggressive stances to the more relaxed positioning now. The distracted knife play, idle twirling of his pistols...Locus grimaced silently at the unnecessary fact now nagging in the back of his brain. 

“Quick thinker and quick talker! We’re gonna get along great!” Felix announced, clapping hands on Price’s shoulders. In defense of the smaller man, he only moved due to the sudden application of pressure to his form. Otherwise, he appeared rather unflappable. 

“This second inmate; take us to him,” Locus instructed, watching as Felix kept tight hold on Price’s shoulders as they walked back to the prisoner barracks. Every few paces Felix tilted his head just enough to barely catch a view of him in the corner of his visor. The angle of his hips familiar even as he walked forward.

Locus pushed his attentions to the man revealed to them, covered in tattoos and scarred up most of his face. This needed his expertise - professional soldiers with a need for order and guidance  - and while Felix chuckled with barely suppressed glee, he ignored how they turned towards each other before entering the cell.


	2. Sociopathic Sexuality

It’s always hard. Fast, aggressive, confrontational almost. The actions and motions provide a build up into a blinding release that gun play and physical fighting can’t supply for Locus.

  
Harkening back to his early sexual experiences, he found most partners, male and female, to be lacking what he wanted. Not strong enough, not built, not willing to endure a near fist fight as they climaxed. A few ODSTs knew how to do it his way, fucking with such intensity with the knowledge their next drop statistically would be their last. Black Ops provided another tier and type of sex - all the soldiers at their peak physical fitness and prowess, taking exactly what they wanted when they needed it. In those years, he finally settled on a personality of choice: overconfident and loud mouthed but able to exert control in order to achieve satisfaction.  These sociopaths fell just short of full on bed brawls. 

How he ended up with Felix, the walking definition of asshole, still brought him mild amusement. The first time they fucked came after hand-to-hand exercise where neither yielded even with multiple hits and dark bruises. Felix didn’t mind repeating the ‘fun’ later that night.  
Sex is not only for release but a struggle for dominance in his eyes; a fight that ends better than anything else. And Felix feeds into that with a sly grin and knowing glint. Deep, painful marks no one sees from teeth, fingers, thighs and feet. Aching muscles being strained and stretched with increased force, speed, and repetition. By the time he climaxes, white motes cross his vision and he finds himself struggling to breath. 

And hell if Felix doesn’t end up the same way.

_“Fuck.”_ The word comes out half gasp, half praise as Felix rolls over onto his stomach, face down in the pillows. Locus closes his eyes, allowing the rapid pounding of his pulse to continue rather than try to get control of it. His skin pulses under a sheen of sweat and the cool recycled air of the ship begins to provide some relief from the humid heat they created. Subtle noises, faint murmurs from the man next to him get plugged away in his mind as reminders that he remained one of the few to render Felix mute.

The filing system in his mind brought up multiple things as he tucked away the sights and sensations. One memory in particular popped up unbidden. A mercenary wannabe that joked Locus wouldn’t know what to do with a pussy or a dick if he ever saw one. That particular asshole ended up with multiple fractures to his jaw, eyes, nose, and spine but not courtesy of himself. Felix staged a ‘mock fight’ with several of them and went to town, beating the shit out of him with such aggression that the others barely moved in response. He ranted in his usual manner about some miscommunication regarding a mission and that this man was the cause of more than one headache. At the end, he made sure those witnessing the event heard his subtle threat to disembowel him should he fuck up again. 

When they met up later that night in Felix’s quarters, they damn near snapped the metal bed frame. The next day, if anyone heard anything, no one felt the need to talk about it. Very much like the way things are now.

“Do you ever stop thinking?” Felix questioned, his voice muted by the pillow still pressed to his face. Locus rolled his closed eyes

“One of us has to.”

“Oh stow that shit, will you? You just used some pretty intense swears in Sanghelli while we fucked. And your telling me your mind stayed focused that whole time?”

“Considering how loud you are, I constantly think about whether or not to follow through on my threat to gag you.”

Felix laughed in a deep, dark tone that cause an unexpected sensation to squirm through Locus’ belly. His eyes nearly glow in the low light as he peaks up from the pillow. “Is it my birthday already?” he asks in a dangerously deep voice. In a move that mildly impresses Locus, he slithers up the last few inches of the bed, turning onto his side so to be within a hair’s breath of each other’s lips. “I thought we only brought out the toys when we celebrated me?”

A flash of color and Felix’s grin appears to almost crack his face as Locus’s hand squeezes his jawline. The contrast of his mahogany skin against his partner’s gently tan skin always struck him something near inspired. Scattered purple bruises run from his jaw to his abdomen, dotting the intense musculature of his well sculpted body. All of those marks made here, in bed, by Locus. He maintains a steady breathing pattern as calloused fingertips trace the litany of darkened areas on his chest and belly. 

They’re possessive, they’re proud. They’re perfect for each other.

Felix gave a deep, rich laugh, curling his arm up and around where Locus still cups his jaw in a vice grip. “Like what you see?”

“I hope you have something better than that in repertoire,” he responds in a near deadly tone. White teeth flash with a venomous flair before Felix wrenches his hand away and comes at him with a hard kiss that leaves a wet coppery taste in their mouths. Bruises and cuts to the lip still count.

* * *

  
There’s no top or bottom. No dominant or submissive. It’s Felix and Locus, expert mercenaries, deadliest in their trade, who just so happen to enjoy fucking each other to near unconsciousness. And no one questions either of them for their tactics or reactions. Even when Locus spends the rest of the day issuing only mild orders and Felix swaggers just a little bit more than usual. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murder boyfriends.
> 
> *blows a kiss*


End file.
